Looking deeply at the damp drudgery eating the walls, I push my hand completely through, there is no sound, no one is around except the dripping twinkle of the curse, a tarnished complexity stooped in historical depth, out of focus observing a benign despair, I climb a weakened stair that crumbles to the floor below yet not a soul will miss, water trickles down the rain washed brow, I can see now, ‘tis a day that is meant to be, I can hear the shadows in thy distant pass fading away from me, yet without choice, I shall let it be.
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Glance at the phone, contacting no-one, letters unopened, see bygones be gone, lie in a darkened room, while not wanting to venture outsid...
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Clean light does not shine here anymore magnolia walls have become dirty to the floor grey linoleum floors sticky past directional tape the... -
Movement is to do, better still not! It is a feeling, a moment in time a thought or a critique sublime never mind the bullshit be easy on ...
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